


Rising From The Ground

by allmylittlethings



Category: Demi Lovato - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: 1dpromptwriting, Demi Lovato - Freeform, Emotional Abuse, Homosexuality, M/M, Skyscraper, Songfic, psychological abuse, writing competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1399729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmylittlethings/pseuds/allmylittlethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry's father doesn't love him and Niall is a student who runs into him, quite literally.</p><p>Won 2nd place in 1dpromptwriting's Fan Fiction Competition, originally posted on nouis-oath.tumblr.com (now frozrn.tumblr.com) on the 1st of December 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rising From The Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy, I honestly don't like it to much, but it won 2nd place so that must mean something :).

….

Skies are crying, I am watching

Catching tear drops in my hands

Only silence as it’s ending

Like we never had a chance

Do you have to make me feel like

There’s nothing left of me

….

The boy walked on softly, his feet wading through puddles in the crowded streets, the skies crying as if they were reflecting upon his own emotions, the way he carried himself in the dreary day’s atmosphere. Nobody paid second attention to him as his own tears mixed with the rain drops rolling down his plump red cheeks. Pulling his soft grey beanie, representing the colour of his once green eyes, over his red ears he continued onwards, the bustling of the street falling on deaf ears.

The look of disappointment still rang through the young boy’s mind, the words his father shouted towards the boys receding form, the gasps of fear that left his lips as he trembled from the cold. Why can’t you be more like your sister Harold? You’re once again proving why you are such a mistake, why we should have left you in the cold the minute you were born. What did we ever do to deserve this Harry?! Harry shook his curls, rain drops travelling his crest fallen features as he continued to find his way, any way that could take him away from the pain he was feeling.

His mind was someplace else when a smaller body crashed into his tall lanky form. It was a mess of limbs and body parts as both of the young boys tried to regain their balance, pedestrians around them seemingly groaning as they bypassed the commotion. Harry slowly stood up, dusting off his clothes and trying his hardest to make sure they were not ruined, he didn’t need another reason for his father to be disappointed in him.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no…” muttered the smaller boy, his hands scurrying to try and saviour the papers he was holding in his hands previously. Harry noticed the boy on his knees as he looked the down, the striking blond hair surprising the boy. Slowly, yet carefully, Harry leant down to help the boy retrieve his papers, deciding his clothes were already damaged beyond repair. He would just have to deal with the wrath of his father like he usually did.

As if the smaller boy had suddenly noticed the other boy’s presence, he looked up slowly, as if he was scared he was going to be yelled at for running the boy over in his mad dash to get to class on time. Blue met Grey and each of the boys gasped, Harry for the mere reason that he had never seen eyes that blue before. The blonde boy below him had eyes like the ocean, blue and dazzling, soft and yet seemingly sparkling with untold energy and life, life that Harry hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“Oh,” the boy wordlessly breathed out as he took in Harry’s features; the red rimmed eyes showcasing the tears that were once cascading down the curly haired boy’s cheeks, the slumped shoulders, the grey eyes holding nothing but despair and pain. “Let’s get you inside Hun,” the blond cooed, enclosing the cold yet larger hands within his own, before Harry was dragged into the seemingly empty coffee shop. It was as if in this one single action, Harry’s spirits had begun to rise, leave the ground they once called home and repair the broken boy.

….

You can take everything I have

You can break everything I am

Like I’m made of glass

Like I’m made of paper

….

Harry couldn’t help but relate himself to the logs as he watched the orange flames dance, the way they engulfed the smaller logs and used them to gain power, leaving the logs burning and turning into ash, remnants of their old selves. The young boy never used to think like this, but as he grew older and came aware of how the world works, his dreams were slowly diminished, leaving behind a shell of what he once was.

A warm mug was placed in between Harry’s large hand as the blond boy from outside kneeled before him; hands nestled on Harry’s knees and vibrant blue eyes comforting the broken boy. “What about your papers?” was all that left the boys lips as he stared at the ground; why must he be such a nuisance to all those around him. Maybe his father was telling the truth, maybe he was a waste space, maybe the world would be a better place without him; maybe.

“Hey now,” the blue eyed boy whispered, taking notice of the lone tear traveling down his counterparts face, his red plump cheeks wetting once again from the addition. “I can write it again, no need to cry love.” The words reminded Harry of his mother, how she would cradle him close at nights and whisper comforting words into his ears, chasing away the nightmares and bringing forth the dreams of a better life.

The blond introduced himself as Niall before he settled down next to Harry on the couch, inadvertently comforting the boy with his very presence. No words were exchanged as the two teenagers, both wise upon their years, sat in a comfortable silence, the flames continuing to dance in front of them, and god be damned if Harry couldn’t help but notice the way Niall’s eyes bounced to life in the light of fire, or the way his breath tickled the edge of Harry’s ears.

Harry left the small family run coffee shop that night with a smile upon his once darkened features, not once having uttered his name, and yet feeling that maybe, maybe just possibly everything would turn out alright.

….

As the smoke clears, I awaken

And untangle you from me

Would it make you feel better

To watch me while bleed?

All my windows still are broken

But I’m standing on my feet

….

The spirits that Harry had gained once leaving the coffee shop didn’t stay with him for long, slowly they diminished, once again like the burning logs enveloped by flames, his spirits were left to be swept away in the wind like the ash they were, remnants of what they could have been.

It was dark once he returned to his dark home, bear bottles scattered among the front lawn and rubbish bins left unattended for days. His house was the classic scary home in their neighbourhood, the house that children told stories about, the house that parents warned their children to stay away from. Lights within those other homes had long been turned off; housing the happy families that dreamt those peaceful thoughts completely unlike the constant nightmare Harry was living through. It was a shame really, how Harry wished he could have a life a simple as theirs whilst they were dreaming of fame and luxuries.

Snores could be heard as Harry ungracefully staggered through his broken bedroom window, effectively cutting his already torn skin, the shattered glass seemingly tearing and grabbing at the broken boy. He was glad, if only for a second, for the fact his father was asleep before he remembered the disappointment he was sure going to face once the sun rose. For now, he was dead to world as soon as his head hit his filth ridden pillow.

Harry was alright, really he was.

….

The sound of rushing footsteps filled the air as Harry ran down the hot pavement, the heat a big contrast to the downpour the town experienced the past week. Harry was hot all over, his body, his mind, even the tears that were rolling down his face were hot to the touch and it took all of his willpower not to break down right there and then. With his destination fresh in his mind he continued to run, not caring if he pushed does people who believed they were better than he was, he had a mission and nobody was going to get in his way…

He broke down in front of the library. He could see where he needed to get to, the one place on the planet in which he felt self and secure, the place in which he was reminded of his mother’s caring and comforting words, the nostalgia that rocked him to the bone. 

He didn’t make to the little family run coffee shop, didn’t get to see the striking blue eyes and dazzling blonde hair before he was on the cold floor, light leaving his eyes as he repeated the mantra that his father shouted him as the sun rose. Where were you last night punk? I’m not a punk. Were you out with your little druggie friends getting high? What friends? I knew you were a good for nothing little piece of- SHUT UP!

The battle inside his head was excruciating, the pain of remembering that the man who conceived him, the man who was supposed to love him through thick and thin, thought nothing of him, believed that the boy was a waste of space, not deserving that precious thing called life, that he in fact never deserved to live. The sobs escaping his soft lips gradually became louder and more severe as his breath escaped him, he didn’t even noticed to soft arms encircling his body and bringing him back to earth. He didn’t noticed the smooth singing that was calming his breathing and his thoughts, and he definitely did not notice the soft fairy like kiss that was placed to his temple before he welcomed the inevitable darkness that was creeping upon him. His spirits had been burnt, swept aside and buried 6 feet under the ground with nothing in his sights to revive them.

….

Go run, run, run

I’m gonna stay right here,

Watch you disappear

Yeah, oh

Go run, run, run

Yeah, it’s a long way down

But I’m closer to the clouds up here

….

When the broken boy opened his eyes he found that he was no longer on the streets, no longer in his own world of shameless self-pitying, but instead he felt the strong sensation of love and comfort being portrayed before him, almost as if they wanted him to know specifically that he was loved and not alone in this world. As much as he wanted to leave this unfamiliar apartment, his curiosity was tearing him apart. For all he knew he could’ve been taken in by some random psychotic dude, but honestly the broken boy couldn’t bring himself to care. No one needed him anyway. No one wanted the broken boy.

A beautiful sound filled the curly haired boy’s ears, he could distinctly hear the gasp come out of the perky little Irish mouth and suddenly he was enveloped in a tight hug, the blond boy’s own tears mixing with the tears already stained into Harry’s once white top.

“I thought the worst things about you, I just believed that- I don’t know curly, but I thought I had lost you forever and I just met and, and I just can’t lose you, okay, okay?” Niall continued to mutter into Harry’s neck, the words falling with each tear and gasp that left the blonde’s panicked mouth, trying to regain sense of the situation. With that it seemed like Harry’s resolve failed, his walls crumbled around him as he just watched on, watched what damage the blue eyed beauty had manage to do in such a short period of time, the pieces of the wall Harry had manage to uphold for years just came apart with the simple words said beautifully from the Irish native. No one was supposed to care, why was this boy, that he had only met the day before, suddenly caring?

A lone single sob escaped Harry’s chapped lip, and then suddenly he crashed. Everything he had been wanting to let off of his chest from the day his mother mysteriously passed away escaped from the broken, seemingly beyond repair, boy’s mouth as he tried to regain his breath; every little worry that had ever plagued the boy, from when he accidently ran over his neighbours cabbage patch when he was 6 to his father’s shouts left in forms of tears and sobs. The world seemed to burn, enveloping Harry and leaving him to turn into the ash he was as he collapsed into the smaller boy’s chest, skinning arms wrapping around his torso. The words, can’t cry, men don’t cry, falling on deaf ears as Niall scooped Harry into his arms and placed kisses over every available surface on Harry’s face, before leaning down and staring into the grey eyes that belong to his lover.

“You are allowed to cry curly, you are allowed to hurt, feel pain, get angry, allowed to experience all these emotions that make you, you. Having these emotions doesn’t make you a baby, or a girl, or any of those words that man decided to throw in your direction, having these emotions makes you are man because you are not afraid to show the real you to all of those people who believe they are better than you, and believe me, they aren’t. All of those horrible things your father has said to you over the years are not true curly, they certainly are not true. You know what I see when I look at you, I see a broken and yet beautiful attractive young man who has so much potential in this world and you deserve that kind of love. Not the so called ‘love’ your father has given you these past years, you deserve love so rich and meaningful that it can bring the colour back to your eyes and the fire back into your life. You deserve this curly, you deserve it so much.”

And suddenly Harry did an act he believed was something that he would never experience, something that only happened in cliché rom-coms or fairy tales his mother read him when he was younger, he leaped from the blonde’s arms and furiously placed his lips against the smaller boys, the room heating up almost instantly.

“It’s Harry,” he muttered once their lips departed, “M’name’s Harry,” and yeah, maybe he was broken, maybe his spirits had been buried deep into a pit underground, but maybe just possibly a blue eyed boy was reviving them, and bringing Harry back to life in the process.

….

Go on and try to tear me down

I will be rising from the ground

Like a skyscraper

Like a skyscraper

….

2 years later

Harry stood at the end of the isle, impatiently waiting for his boy to make his trip down the seemingly forever ongoing pathway. Cautiously his eyes made the trip back down to the watch on his wrist and the boy next to him giggled before patting the once broken boy on the back. Thinking about the past two years in retrospective to his life before he met the sun he will soon call his husband, he glanced over to the men chatting towards his right. There stood the, is it still called a bridal party when it’s between two men, oh who cares right, bridal party as Harry had decided, his best man Louis and his husband Zayn, and his fiancé’s best man Liam, all dressed smartly in their fitted suits and roses in their pockets. 

Louis winked over towards him as the music began to play, finally, and Harry turned around to meet the dazzling blue eyes of his lover. It was as if the world around them stopped moving, the only being that meant anything in their own eyes being each other. They were each other’s world and that was the only thing that truly mattered.

Soon enough Liam was carrying the candle and rose that was once held in Niall’s arms, representing Harry’s long gone mother, bless her, and Niall made his way over towards his lover’s shaking form.

“Hey love,” Niall’s beautiful accent accented as he reached over towards Harry, arms sliding around each other as the priest began to read out, what in the world do priests read out at this time, Harry was not listening.

“Hey hotshot,” Harry smirked lowering his head so he could gleam at his husband’s, soon to be husband’s, sparkling eyes. Green met blue and it was almost as if the world was filled with colour it had long been deprived of, forests began to match the vibrant colours once only shown between the oceans, and everything seemed right in the rocky world.

Maybe Harry was truly silly for once comparing himself to log, all those years ago, maybe he was in fact the beautiful light produced from the flames, the beauty produced from the thing that tends to burn and destroy lives. Maybe he was just looking at the world wrong and he needed to sun to bring him back to life. Maybe all he ever needed was this one little blond in his life, and that was possibly all he could ever need.

Finally the two boys kissed, the two husbands kissed and made the bond that would surely never be broken, and Harry’s spirits lifted, rose from the ground that had been enveloping him for so long and began to touch the sky, much like a skyscraper.


End file.
